Mary, Mike, and Scott

Chapter 1
Uncle Harvey's House

Chapter Description: Michael reunites with his younger brother who's been off at college for a few years in New York. Now he's back in Western Washington, but something about him seems... different.

Thanksgiving Day, a time for the whole family to come together. Aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, and all other sorts of kin gather around to eat turkey, watch football, and generally act like one big happy family just once in the long year of separation. Michael was always very fond of this holiday. He still recalled that happy Thanksgiving when he invited his family over to his own home to meet his fiancee, Rachel. She made a great impression on them, his cousin Mary had already taken her on almost as a sister before the night was out.

This year, Thanksgiving was at old Uncle Harvey’s place in Snohomish by the lake. A quiet spot with a little dock that was great for fishing, and a long gravel driveway that Michael had just pulled his little red truck into. Rachel was sitting in the empty seat beside him. He had been the one to break it off, but after almost a year apart he still couldn’t shake the memories.

Mike put the brake on, and when he looked up to see a young man with an untidy mop of hair waiting for him on the porch, his eyes went wide, "Scott?"

Half a moment later he was out of the truck and rushing over to give his baby brother a bear hug, much to Scott’s surprise.

"Whoah! Mike! Good to see you too, buddy!" he said laughing.

"Scott! You rascal, what are you doing here? I thought you were still at NYU."

"Well, I finally scraped up the cash to come home for the holidays." he said with a smile brushing his bangs out of the way.

"Since when was Thanksgiving the holidays? Why not come at Christmas?"

"Are you saying you’re not grateful?"

"Of course not, Scotty," he said breathlessly, "God, it’s great to see you again!"

"You too, bro. Now, come on in, there’s a beer with your name on it!"

"Lead on, Macduff!"

They crossed the threshold, wiping their feet as they came in. That’s when Michael noticed something about Scott. He was actually fairly short. He was taller than when he left for school, but not by much, and he remembered his late bloomer brother gushing about finally growing a few inches in one of the letters he sent. Was he just overreacting? Maybe Mike was over thinking it.

"Where’s Uncle Harvey?" Mike asked in an off hand manner.

"Catching Aunt Agatha’s supper. The Doctor told her to go easy on the poultry."

"You’re kidding! Aunt Agatha loves her turkey." he said, "That’s terrible."

"Not too terrible. They’ve got some pretty good fish in that lake. I caught my breakfast this morning and I was so full I almost skipped lunch."

"Yeah," chortled Michael, "’almost.’"

Michael took off his coat while they talked and hung it on the rack by the door. There weren’t many other coats just yet, but there was one already that he wasn’t very happy to see. His cousin Mary had always worn that same stupid denim jacket and there it was right on the end.

"Don’t tell me she’s here." he said gloomily

"Who?"

"The wicked witch of the northwest."

"Mary’s upstairs." said Scott with a knowing quality to his voice, "I had a hard time imagining sweet ole Mary being anything like your letters, but now that I’m here..." there was something more to his tone and something more in his eyes.

"Yeah, I know." he said, "She’s been hell ever since the engagement ended. I hear she and Rachel are still girlfriends." he was quiet for a moment before regaining his composure, "Now where’s that beer. I think I might just need it."

"Right this way." Scott said, and Michael followed him over to the very well stocked fridge. Uncle Harvey had clearly been expecting him. But then something odd happened, Scott didn’t go for just any drink. Out of the dozen or so sweating bottles of beer that sat in that fridge, he actually moved one or two aside to get to one in the back.

"Gee, Scott, just grab one, I’m not that picky."

Scott froze for a minute, his face even went a little red. "Well," he said, "a couple got a little shaken up in the trunk. I figured a beer squirt wouldn’t make a very good welcome home, now would it?" he smiled, but it seemed uncertain as he handed that bottle to Mike.

"Thanks," he said, "aren’t you having one?"

"What? Me?"

"Come on, Scott! Your twenty-first was three months ago, and don’t forget that letter you sent the the day afterward."

"I haven’t forgotten," he said, lightly, "that’s why I’m not having any."

"Fair enough." Mike said, taking the cold bottle and popping it on the countertop, "Don’t tell mom." he joked. Scott gave a half hearted chuckle.

Then Mike took a quick swig of the beer and immediately regretted it. The bottle slipped from his hands and smashed against the tiled floor. He had read stories where people said their stomach turned, but he never realized that a phrase like that could ever seem so literal. His face contorted into what looked like someone holding back a sneeze. At once Scott’s cheerful façade fell, revealing a fearful young man.

"I’m sorry, Mike. They gave me a small dose, they promised me the antidote if I... I’m so sorry," Scott whispered, on the verge of tears, "They made me do it."

"Do... what?" he gripped the countertop for support as his legs began to buckle beneath him, "Scott... what the hell did you.. do t’me?"

"It’s..." Scott couldn’t seem to say it, "It’s..."

Mike gagged for a moment and did the best job he could of stumbling to nearest bathroom, slamming the door behind him. That particular beer had been laced with a drug called Juvenintis. When taken, it would slow the aging process. In high enough dosages, it could even reverse it. From there, the higher the dose, the faster they fall. If their calculations were correct, Mike would stagger out of the bathroom at the age of five.

Scott had had a little himself. Mary had put it on the fish he’d eaten that morning. Not very much, it was taking longer to work, but he could already tell it was working. He heard a creaking and turned to see the woman coming down the stairs with a smile on her face, and her dark hair tied in a pony tail. She had the plumpness that comes with age, but not the age. She looked just like any mother of two ought to, or she would if it weren’t for those eyes. Those were the eyes of a schemer.

"I did what you asked me to," he said shakily, "now give me the antidote."

"Rachel’s coming over." She said as though he hadn’t said a word, "She’s bringing a change of clothes."

"I only did this because you promised me the antidote. You owe me, Mary."

There was a retching noise from the bathroom, followed by another, a little higher pitched this time. Mary sighed, "Poor, kid. But I suppose all that body mass has to go somewhere." she looked around at the spilled beer and glass pieces, "Goodness, what a mess."

"Mary!" Scott shouted breathlessly, "The cure!"

Mary turned to him with a look of utter contempt, "Sorry, Scotty, but I’m afraid I lied about that. There is no cure."

He blinked a few times, and felt a knot forming in his chest, "You... you what?"

"How else was I going to get you to play along? Besides, I couldn’t have you blabbing, you know what would happen then." Mary picked up a few of the larger glass chunks, dropping them in the trash, "It should start to really kick in soon. Don’t worry, you’ll only reach nine. Besides, Rachel will be a great mother to you two. And look on the bright side, now you get to be the big brother."

"You bitch..."

Mary took it in stride, grabbing a towel from the lower drawer to mop up the beer with, "Watch your mouth, kiddo. My Ricky and Sally are here tonight, so no potty words." a mischievous glint came over her eye as she stopped working and looked at Scott’s fearful expression, "Or else Auntie Mary might just help make your breakfast again. How would you like to be a twin? Or maybe you’d rather just keep being the sweet little baby brother? I’m afraid it’ll be a little more literal than before, but it is after all your choice."

There was another retching sound from the bathroom, much higher pitched. It almost sounded like a girl, or perhaps just a very small boy.

"No..." now Scott’s stomach turned, "please..."

"Then be a good boy this Thanksgiving. Mommy’s on her way over with a change of clothes for both of her boys. Now run along to the potty, the one upstairs is open." she smirked, "You’ll be needing it soon."